I’m looking for you in the bare corridor where my shadow is the only passerby harmonizing an unsettling whisper: echoed through my chiming thoughts From the poem 'Looking For You
I don't want to talk to anyone, lest I squander your words' echo, which ripples like a shine over mine and lends their sound a richness.
I remember when I was 5 living on Pulaski Street in Brooklyn, the hallway of our building had a brass banister and a great sound, a great echo system. I used to sing in the hallway.
Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys. It seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys.
We've lost control of this planet somewhere. There's an echo in that kind of tornado situation, where you're powerless facing those phenomena.
The lines of fate on my hand, once so bright, faded into echo. The memory of his face in my dreams, once so luminous passed into shadow.
Echoes can’t read minds. But when you get to know someone very well, you can read their expressions. Pay attention. It will happen to you too.
My original interests and intentions in guitar playing were primarily created on quality of tone, for instance, the way the instrument could be made to echo or simulate the human voice.
Journalism can never be silent: that is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air.
Everywhere man blames nature and fate, yet his fate is mostly but the echo of his character and passions, his mistakes and weaknesses.
Publishing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.
Lucy Weston: Lofty timbers, the walls around are bare, echoing to our laughter as though the dead were there... Quaff a cup to the dead already, hooray for the next to die!
Narrator: A peaceful, uneventful day in a town much like your own. Then suddenly, without warning... [Explosion] Narrator: [echoing] Atomic holocaust!
Occasionally a particular word or phrase in a letter or diary has sparked an entire plot - like an echo from history, still very alive.
Kavita’s arms are still outstretched, but they hold nothing. After the metal gate clangs shut behind them, Kavita can still hear Usha’s piercing wail echoing inside.
Then the dreaded words, Your child has autism. These words echo in their heads like a freight train blasting through their hopes and dreams.
The best endings resonate because they echo a word, phrase, or image from earlier in the story, and the reader is prompted to think back to that reference and speculate on a deeper meaning.
Silence. Montag sat like a carved white stone. The echo of the final hammer on his skull died slowly away into the black cavern where Faber waited for the echoes to subside. And then when the startled dust had settled down about Montag's mind, Faber ...
Art has no immediate future because all art is collective and there is no more collective life(there are only dead collections of people), and also because of this breaking of the true pact between the body and the soul. Greek art coincided with the ...
Theoden: Eomer. Take your Èored down the left flank. Gamling, follow the King's banner down the center. Grimbold, take your company right, after you pass the wall. Forth, and fear no darkness! Arise! Arise, Riders of Theoden! Spears shall be shaken,...
